A Witch in Chains
by RiverFeather6002
Summary: The young woman struggled to keep her head held high as sleep took hold of her, but like the many other times Morgana Pendragon had tried to find peace in her dreams, the attempt failed. Set between seasons 4 5. Rated T just because it might get a little bit violent.
1. A Witch in Chains

After watching Arthur's Bane: Part 2 I knew I had to write this fan fiction...

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters, because if I did there would be so much Mergana in there it's not even funny.

Enjoy!

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The young woman struggled to keep her head held high as sleep took hold of her, but like the many other times Morgana Pendragon had tried to find peace in her dreams, the attempt failed.

As her body loosened, the thick chains that bound her hands to the stone walls above her head pushed deeper into her skin, disrupting the peace and causing her head to jerk upright instantly. She glanced up at her hands, at the crimson rings on her flesh that had long since been imprinted there, and in to her very soul. Chains lay around her waist, tying her against the wall and to her fellow prisoner, Aithusa. How she had come to know her name was still a mystery to the witch, but ever since the magical creature had saved Morgana she had felt an unbreakable bond with her. They kept each other sane in the stone prison Morgana and Aithusa had been placed in.

The cover of the hole was being slowly pushed out of the way, letting bright light flood inside, illuminating Morgana's prison and her certain doom. Aithusa instant awoke from her heavy slumber and screamed with all the power of her lungs at the unknown guard casting a shadow over both the captives' faces. A small piece of stale bread dropped down the hole and landed only inches away from Morgana's feet. How she wished she could reach out with her magic and grab it. However, she didn't have any magic to use. The mysterious enchantment Emrys had placed upon her still had its hold, a fact her captors took great delight in, taunting and jeering at her from their high position. Soon she would show them. With only her ankle chained to the wall, Aithusa slowly made her way to her feet, shaking constantly under her weak legs. She took the piece of bread in her mouth and slowly inched over to where Morgana hung, coming close enough so the witch could get her teeth into the dough. They pulled with their teeth until the brittle bread ripped into two roughly even pieces, and slowly enjoyed the little food they got each day. Aithusa collapsed on the other side of the prison once more, lowering her head but keeping her blue eyes wide and alert.

Morgana mentally thanked her mythical friend, cherishing the companionship she gave the former ward even in this dark time. Her life had taken a turn for the worst. First Camelot had been taken back from her and for the past five months she had been imprisoned by some evil bandit king. At least she thought it was five months. Frankly, she had lost count after the first week.

_How has this happened to me?_ she had asked herself in those first few days. _I have, or used to have, the power of the heavens in my hands and yet some simple-minded bandits can capture me? And a dragon no less_? Nowadays she had given up questioning her fate, and had come to peace with it. At least for the time being. Soon, she would break free from the chains that bound her to a life of captivity and slay all those that stood between her and the throne of Camelot, including the filthy Arthur Pendragon. How she loathed him and the way he ruled his kingdom, snuffing out magic with his powerful armies and deadly swords. She would see his head cleanly depart his body in an instant, and with no regrets. Uther Pendragon's cruelness had been passed down to her, she did not deny it nor was ashamed of the way she was. Fighting for the freedom of the magical race and for what was right.

Or was it right?

She swiped her mind clean of these regretful thoughts, but a small voice in the corner of the firestorm that was her conciseness rang out; _'You were their friend once. You once would've died to save their lives…'_

"No!" Morgana shouted out in a husky voice. "No! They are not my friends!"

Aithusa straightened up, sensing her friend's distress. She wandered over to Morgana and lay down next to her, curling her tail and wings around the witch and resting her head on Morgana's shoulder. Morgana's eyes closed and her head drooped down to Aithusa's chest where she lay, listening to the dragon's steady heartbeat. She drifted off into a restless sleep, dreaming of the days before this torturous life as a prisoner, and the morning she was abducted…

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Next chapter is about how she and Aithusa is captured, and also I'm still unsure if Aithusa is female or not. I know she was mentioned as a he in series 4 but now all the information sites are saying she's a female... what do you think?

Please rate and review :)


	2. An Amazing Day in the Forest

This chapter continues on from the last one where Morgana is having a premonition/ flashback (I call it a premonition because for some parts she's unconscious). Enjoy!

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Morgana woke quietly to an amazing day in the forest. Lush green leaves hung to solid trunks of wood above the soft bed of grass she lay upon. Keeping her eyes shut, she lazily turned her head to the source of a mellow humming that she heard to the right. Reaching a cautious hand out, she felt the smooth head of some sort of creature. The animal pushed its head upward into her hand with an aching desire for comfort, after being alone for nearly a year. Morgana kept stroking its head, puzzled by her continued kindness.

She slowly and hesitantly propped herself up on her elbow, finally opening her eyes and taken in the lush scene around her. Her eyes slowly swept around in an arc until they landed on the small dragon, its bright white skin standing out against the deep green. It almost fell forwards as it made its way towards her chest and nuzzled in the arc her body made on the ground. She didn't know why, but Morgana instantly knew it was a girl. Maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled, or the slight smile the creature always wore.

Suddenly, the events that had occurred over the past day came rushing back to Morgana like an army breaking into her mind. She remember her failure to kill Arthur, the retaking of Camelot and the horror rushing through her brain as she had staggered through the dark woods, certain that her end was near. She couldn't remember any more.

The humming was louder and denser now, and Morgana glanced down to find the little dragon asleep, almost lying on her lap. She smiled, and instantly frowned. How long had it been since she had smiled like that, almost genuinely? Not in an evil way at the expense of others, but because she was truly happy? Her mind cast back to her days as Uther Pendragon's ward. She mentally threw those thoughts in a fire, not bearing to hear them any more. No, she would not let a mere dragon turn her to jelly – not even the sudden connection she had felt with the small being.

She jerked up into a standing position, awaking the peaceful dragon and causing it to howl out with a childish complaint.

"I'm not your friend, you pest," she muttered, walking away angrily. She didn't know where she was going or how she would get there, but she knew that the dragon was not important to her. "I'm no one's friend," she whispered almost sadly as she disappeared from the dragon's view.

Aithusa stood still for quite some time, her big blue eyes still on the spot where Morgana vanished behind a tree.

"M…m…mor…" she stuttered. For some reason, the name Morgana was plastered across her mind like fresh paint on a wall, dripping into the cracks and washing all other colours off.

The dragon slowly began to beat her wings and took off at a steady pace after the evil witch.

Morgana stumbled through the woods, checking the right side of her torso as her feet carried her along. She remembered with sure certainty that one of the knights had stabbed her… but her skin left no traces of any marks.

The noise of a loud horn instantly dug into her ears, filling her head with the low-pitched drone. She turned swiftly on her feet surveying the trees behind her. There was nothing there, but the horn noise still droned on. As she turned back around the noise stopped, and the woods went silent once more. But, a noise – a small noise but a noise none the less. The sound of a twig snapping.

Morgana twirled to her left, where the sound was coming from, but her eyes met nothing until she looked down, directly into the face of the dragon.

"Scram, you," she said, attempting to kick the young thing. When it did not move, anger flared inside her like a small fire growing larger, for the fire of Morgana's hate never really stopped burning.

"I said leave, Aithusa!" she shouted, pointing directly infront of her. She instantly clapped her hand over her mouth. What had just happened? What did "Aithusa" mean? At the mention of her name the dragon's eyes lit up, and shot a beaming toothless smile up at the witch.

"Mor…Morgana," she said quietly.

"What di–" Morgana began, but she was interrupted as the dragon, who despite appearances was quite strong, flew straight upwards like a bullet and flew at Morgana's shoulders, knocking the past Queen to the ground, dodging the arrow that whistled past the point where Morgana's head had just been.

"A bandit horn," Morgana gasped, struggling to get enough air in her lungs. "That sound earlier, that was a _bandit_ horn." Aithusa quickly hopped to her feet, zooming off into the forest at high speed. Morgana pushed herself upright as well and hurriedly followed the dragon, just catching glimpses of her tail as she curved around the various trees.

She heard another arrow come whistling her way, and quickly ducked, watching the silver tip bury itself into the tree ahead of her. Another one dug a deep hole in a patch of soil to her right. And another one flew off into the woods. And another one, and another one, until…

She heard the faint whistle as the arrow shot through the trees, but was too slow for the slim assassin. She jumped to try and avoid it and it struck her in the very bottom of her back, making her fail her landing and fall to the ground in a unconscious heap of black lace and curly hair.

Aithusa immediately sensed the success of this latest attack, swooping around the next tree in an arc and heading back to where Morgana lay. The bandit burst out of the bushes directly ahead of her, closer to Morgana's lifeless body than she was. He aimed and shot another arrow out of his crossbow, but Aithusa easily dodged the bullets.

As she neared the filthy outlaw, she took a big gulp of air, and felt the spark light within her stomach. Her fire burned brighter than Morgana's, but was kept well hidden. Letting all her fury come to the surface, she exhaled a deep red fire that shot straight towards the bandit. Hitting him and cascading around his face.

His scream echoed throughout the forest as he dropped to the ground, writhing in pain. Another bandit, bigger and wearing more advanced armor followed the other's path, and leapt through the bushes, coming at the dragon with an iron-clad fist. He was too quick for the dragon and took her by surprise, pinning her by the throat against the tree closest behind her, and squeezing hard.

The little creature yelped out in horror and fell unconscious. The bandit threw her lifeless form onto the ground next to Morgana.

Two more bandits approached from the right, carrying another prisoner. His build said that of at least a twenty-five year old, but his face said otherwise. He had wise green eyes and sandy hair. He wore the clothes of a poor farm hand.

"Throw him down here," the bandit ordered, obviously the leader because of the way the other two did exactly what he ordered them to. "We'll camp here and then head back to the boss next thing tomorrow morning," he said, throwing his gloves and knap sack on the ground next to the bodies of their prisoners.

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Icy water cascaded down on Morgana's face, waking her from her premonition. It was always the same dream, of the morning she was captured. Seeing it repeatedly only made her regret what easy prey she had been.

"Enjoy your drink, my lady," a voice growled from above. The hole covered and darkness surrounded her once more.

She could hear a man's scream not far from where she hung, and cringed in disgust. _Lucas must still be being tortured, _she thought, sharing the pain of her fellow prisoner. The bandits had long since given up torturing her, not wanting to hurt her. Apparently she was too "precious" to damage; might dull the price people would be for the last High Priestess. But obviously a farm hand was useless to them.

She felt Aithusa shuffle next to her and she attempted to make herself more comfortable, it was going to be a long night. Or was it day?

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I practically cried when I was writing about Aithusa being injured, but something had to explain her not being able to speak. :(

As always, please review :)


	3. Scream and Shout

Another chapter up! This is back with Morgana in the dungeon, with Lucas being tortured... Enjoy!

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Morgana struggled to find peace as Lucas's cries echoed throughout the dungeon. What were they doing to him? Her only wish was to escape, free him, and slaughter every last disgusting bandit between her and feeling sunlight once again on her face. She let out a soft moan, craving the desire for heat against the cold wind that never seemed to stop whistling throughout the dungeon.

She pulled down hard on the metal hoops that bound her to the stone wall. Even after months of imprisonment she had not had any success in even freeing herself from the circular prison. Claustrophobia took hold of her as she ached to spread her legs out, but they met the stone wall opposite her before she even had the chance to unfold them. Her body shook, and her mind with it. She was having another panic attack. She had only had two as her time as a prisoner, but they were painful and severe and took days if not weeks to recover. She screamed out, joining Lucan in his high-pitched cries of pain and fury.

Lucas' crying stopped, and an inquisitive silence beckoned from his cell.

"Morgana?" he called out. "Mor–" But his words were silenced by the sound of a whip cracking, and another cry of pain issued from his lips.

"Lucas!" Morgana screamed against the worry and the fury building up in her chest, ready to force its way out of her body. She reached out with her magic, and felt his life force weakening by the second. "Stay with me! Don't leave!"

The sliding grate at the top of her cell slid lowly away, and white light fell upon Morgana's face, instantly pulling her back to sanity. She knew the light was not the same as the golden sunshine she imagined was still outside, one of the only thoughts that kept her going.

A hollow voice grunted from an enormous shadow standing right over the hatch. "Stay tight, your lady. You have a meeting with your _master_." He sniggered and lowered himself down the hatch with a thick rope. "Now don't you try anything, you cow," he said as he was being lowered.

When he reached the bottom Aithusa opened her eyes, snapping at him with her powerful mouth. He revealed the whip attached to his belt and slashed her over the head with it. The dragon howled and retreated across the stone floor.

"No..." Morgana muttered. The man, whose round face was smudged with black dirt all over, produced a small key and unlocked the various chains tying Morgana to a slow death in the cell. He took hold of her around the waist. The instant his arm made contact with her she grabbed his face, attempting to hurt or even kill him, but fatigue clung to her with a mighty fist, and she could barely hold on to the bandit's face.

He sniggered once more and tugged at the rope twice, and he and the witch were slowly levitated up to the top of the prison. Morgana struggled to keep her eyes open; it was almost as if lying in the bandit's grasp was comfortable – but then again anything was comfortable considering her living arrangements.

She took note of her surroundings. Had they changed or had she just forgotten what the dungeon looked like? Water leaked down through many small cracks in the ceiling, and behind her there were more grates directly aligned with hers. As the bandit walked, she felt her feet not being able to move properly on the ground – they were being dragged along like she was some sort of puppet. How long had it been since she was captured?

As they walked, they passed countless doors and Morgana saw countless bandits inside many of them, a few of them jeering at the bandit carrying her.

"On prisoner duty, are we, Tom?" one of them called.

Tom's face would harden and he would call back; "I'm probably getting more woman now then you will in your entire lifetime, you filth!"Morgana watched as the bandit had to be held back from attacking Tom, blistering red anger plastered across his face.

The screaming was much louder now, and as she passed another door she glimpsed a sight that would stay with her the rest of her life. Lucas was lying on a bench, blood streaming from an unknown place across his body. He weakly put a hand up and reached out to her as she passed.

"Lucas!" she screamed, suddenly finding her feet and attempting to run back to the farm hand. She clawed at the Tom's arm, making little marks on the tough leather that clad his entire body. Her feet sprawled across the cold stone as she attempted to break free from the bandit's menacing grip.

"You'll see pretty boy soon enough, my lady," Tom sneered, as he lifted her right off her feet with one arm and carried her.

"Where are you taking me?" she managed to mumble into his arm, which she was still trying to sink her teeth into in an attempt to escape.

"The boss," he replied simply. "After your little display of affection for that useless farm hand he had an idea. A bloody good one if I may say so myself."

Morgana contemplated the idea of meeting this supposed bandit 'king'. If she got close enough, she could surely strangle him with the chain still linking her hands... she was shocked at the idea. How could she be reduced to just some lousy old woman? On any other day Tom, this bandit 'king', and any other person who dared attack her would have their flesh burnt off in an instant. Tom turned a corner into a large hall, and she shut her eyes tightly, refusing to open them for no one. She felt the large bandit drag her towards another stone wall and hang her exactly the way she was being hung in her regular prison – upright with her arms in the air, her head hanging as low as it could and her legs sprawled across the ground.

She heard Tom walking away, and heard a voice, a voice she hadn't heard in a long time... it was crackly and hollow, but it could be no one else but...

Morgana opened her eyes, and found herself staring into the wise eyes of Alvarr, hanging on the wall directly opposite her. His hair had grown much longer and he wore a dull-coloured beard, but he still smiled they way he always did when looking upon the witch. Torn rags clung to his body as his only protection from the cold wind circling quickly around the large hall.

"Hello, Morgana," he said again, more slowly this time. "Long time, no see..."

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After all the rumours of him returning for series five, and being disappointed, I thought that Alvarr's appearance in this story would be quite effective in the emotional changes she goes through between the fourth and fifth series...

Please read and review! Thanks!


	4. Bandit King

Sorry about the really long wait, I have exams and the revision is killing me...

Enjoy!

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Morgana's eyes rose slowly, regarding her old friend with a sense of uncertainty. She felt a mysterious feeling wash through her body, cleansing her of the fear that had grabbed her when she had seen Lucas in the torture chamber. Her mind questioned the emotion, and recoiled when it realised it was hope. But Alvarr was changed, different. The way he looked at her was – unnerving. His eyes dug into her with a curious look, almost inquisitive. They held nothing of the comfort or warmth that they used to. It was almost as if he was examining her.

The doors that she had entered into swung open once more. The wood separated quickly and slammed against the stone walls on either side. A man walked through, wearing a thick, fur coat that fell to the floor and spread out behind him as he stalked towards the throne to Morgana's right.

"My lady," he said as he passed her, giving her a quick bow and letting her study his face. He had dark hair, as dark as hers, that was cut short and the thin moustache above his mouth seemed almost cheeky. Or maybe it was the prying way he smiled at her. Gold chains hung low around his neck, rings made his many fingers shine brighter than anything she had ever seen before, and when he bowed she caught a glimpse of the steel sword that rested at his waist.

He walked towards her. "Answer me when I speak to you!" he shouted, pushing his face right up against hers. Morgana took the opportunity and produced all the spit she could in her mouth, projecting it right into his face. He leaned back and whipped the back of his hand swiftly across her face, making her cry out at the sudden pain.

"You stupid witch!" he screamed, wiping pale mucus out of his eyes and flinging it back at her. "You will soon learn."

He turned directly around and walked slowly to the imprisoned sorcerer. "How are you, my pet?" he asked, lifting Alvarr's face with one finger so their eyes rested on one another.

"I am well, my master," Alvarr whispered. The man let his head go and he looked directly towards Morgana, as he was doing before. She instantly turned to look in any other direction, she didn't like the way he looked at her, as if he was almost planning what to do with her.

The man pushed his coat outwards and settled on the throne, dirtying the soft green velvet with the mud on his coat. It had obviously just been stolen from one castle in the area or another. As he was slightly elevated, he looked down at her, straight into her hard eyes that were fixated on his face.

"How rude of me!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I haven't introduced myself." He stood up and bowed once more. "Presenting Brennus, King of all Bandits."

"Hardly," Morgana muttered, knowing that one man could not control the growing numbers of outlaws in Albion.

Brennus chose to ignore her comment, continuing; "I know, I know. Just take a moment to let the honour of being in my presence sink in..."

Morgana smirked, hardly believing what she was hearing. So the impressive "king" that had managed to capture a High Priestess was a selfish, arrogant fool who wore too much jewellery for his own good? She decided to go along with the idiot bandit's game, thinking that playing by his rules would actually get her somewhere.

Brennus stood, closing in on the lonely witch. "How long do you think you've been here, Morgana?" he whispered, lowering his face down to hers. "Because I can tell you, it won't be what you think."

"Three months," Morgana said, looking up into Brennus' brown eyes, which almost seemed to be comforting, despite his aggressive nature. She could remember the day she, Aithusa and Lucas were captured as clear as day.

The bandit chuckled, high and loud. Morgana's face crinkled as the sound burrowed deep into her ears. "Well, my lady. Let's just say..." he paused for an obvious effect and was satisfied with Morgana's expression. "Around a year and a half?"

Morgana's eyes grew wide in horror. "No!" she whispered, as loud as her closing throat would let her.

"Oh, yes!" Brennus cried. "You've been here eighteen months, my dear. The whole time screaming to nobody in particular about a man who doesn't exist." The effect on Morgana at this comment obviously pleased him, and he chuckled again. "I believe his name was, Lucas, was it?"

Morgana struggled to pull herself away from the bandit, who was now towering over her small figure. The chains would not let her budge, and she cried out for the one person she knew could help.

"LUCAS!" she screamed, like a small child in desperate need of help. "Lucas! I need you!" But no one answered, and a wide grin grew across Brennus' face like an infection.

"He's not there, you cow! We slowly and painfully killed him! And even weeks and weeks and weeks after you still cry for him! He's dead..." he lowered himself to look directly into Morgana's deep green eyes, which were slowly filling with clear tears. "And your next, honey."

Brennus turned sharply on his heel and slid out of the room through an almost unnoticeable door in the right corner. But, just before the tail of his coat disappeared, his head popped through. "And do you want to know how many times we have had this fight? Oh, you're going to love this..."

"Once," Morgana muttered, for this encounter was still freshly painted across the canvas of her mind.

"Ha! We've had it forty-two times, my lady, I wonder how many more?" His head disappeared behind the door, and Morgana heard his laughing slowly fade away and he moved away from her position. The door closed and the hall was yet again plunged into deep black.

This must be a trick; this _had_ to be a trick. Who had she seen in the corridor? How long ago was that experience when the bandit, Tom, had dragged her past the suffering farm hand? She turned to look at the door, as Lucas' screams filled her head once more. Alvarr noted her expression of horror, and swallowed deeply, preparing for the worst.

"It's starting again," he said, loud enough to distract Morgana from the screams in her head.

"What did you say?" Lucas' cries became louder and louder, as if he was being dragged right past her door.

"You're imagining things, Morgana!" he shouted at her. "Snap out of it! The farm hand is dead, and you are going to convince yourself that he is alive!"

Morgana turned to Alvarr, her eyes mystified. "How do you know this?" she asked.

"I've watched it happen, over and over. I've tried to stop it..." his voice trailed off. His expression had changed to one of sadness. "Please, stay with me. You erase your conversation with Brennus right after you've had it and it keeps happening! You were dragged into this hall twelve months ago! _Please_, try to remember!"

Morgana's mind cast back to the memory, which she had hidden under the dying screams of her friend.

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**Flashback**

Brennus walked into the very hall that she was being imprisoned in. He wore the same coat, but his hair was longer, he had no facial hair and his face was somehow younger. Morgana was still transfixed by the surprise of seeing Alvarr again.

Brennus walked towards Morgana, talking to the bandit Tom who was hurrying to keep up with him.

"She's been screaming out for the boy, your highness," the large bandit was saying. "He's an easy bargaining tool."

Brennus smiled. "Hello, Morgana Pendragon," he said as he passed her and settled on the throne. It was wooden and creaked loudly as he perched himself on it. "I've been waiting to meet you for some time. I'm Brennus. We've got a little present for you." He gestured with his hands, and the doors opened. Lucas' frail structure was thrown into the hall by Tom. Blood had dried across his bare chest and his eyes carried a misty look about them.

"Lucas!" Morgana said, happy to see the boy alive, at least.

"Morgana," he whispered, reaching his hand out to her. Brennus stood up and came for the boy with a whip, slapping his hand away from the High Priestess. He stood over Lucas, fingering his whip and looking over the boy curiously. Lucas had curled himself into a ball, rocking in the shadow of the bandit.

"Please," Morgana stuttered, her breath almost failing her. "I'll do anything..."

"Oh," Brennus said excitedly. He raised the whip to hit the farm hand again. "I know. We might even get the dragon in here!" His cold laugh filled her mind, and she blanked out in fury.

**End of Flashback**

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The memory came flooding back into Morgana's mind like water washing her brain out. She suddenly found herself not being able to breathe, and she sucked the air into her lungs in large wheezes.

"Morgana," Alvarr said quietly. "Morgana, can you hear me?"

"Yes!" Morgana's head shot up as she looked into the sorcerer's eyes. "I can. But I don't want to."

"I know," he almost sounded relieved. He had never gotten this far with her, getting her to remember that first encounter months and months ago. He remembered it like it had only just happened... She had agreed to help the bandit king, and he had taken Lucas away. A few moments later, he heard what he was almost certain was the final cry of the farm hand. This sent Morgana over the edge, and she had been chained up and reliving the same memories over and over again. Maybe it was her way of dealing with the heartache and guilt?

He looked steadily into Morgana's eyes. "Morgana, listen to me. Lucas is dead. From what I know, the dragon's still alive, but I don't know how long that creature has. Please stay with me, I can't lose you again. Not like everyone else..." His thoughts cast back to watching his friends be murdered by the filthy bandits. And as he was being taken back to wherever this dungeon was, the bandits that had captured him encountered Mordred – at least he was almost certain it was Mordred. The druid had grown a lot. Mordred had escaped, but Alvarr was not sure of his fate.

Morgana's breathing had slowed down, and she was now much more calm. "He's not dead," she whispered quietly, but Alvarr could still hear her hopeful prayers. "I feel it."

"Yes, Morgana!" the sorcerer said sarcastically. "But you could feel it all the other times as well, you are no more right now then you were then." Despite his harsh attitude, he was glad to have her back. "Now, I have a plan that can get us both out of here..."

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Brennus stalked the dungeon, happy to be reliving this encounter for the... how many time had it been? He counted on his fingers as he walked. Forty-four, he came to. But he never knew exactly. It had only been a few days since the last fight, but Morgana's almost self-manipulation had taken a much shorter time than usual. He sighed, no one would buy the stupid witch because apparently it was too dangerous to harbour a criminal who had been involved in both the first and second sieges of Camelot, and she was quickly becoming a burden. She was neither useful nor exactly useless. So much for a great deal!

He stood at the doors to the 'throne room', as he liked to call it, and waited for his guards to push open the doors. But he was to never know that he would not know what he would like inside.

As he entered, intending to perform the part as he always did, the doors slammed shut behind him. That wasn't meant to happen. Still, he continued. Morgana was strung as usual, staring directly at Alvarr as if seeing him for the first time, _again_. He walked past her bowing and saying his usual, "My lady." He prepared to get angry at her for not replying, _again_, but a small whisper escaped her lips.

"My lord," she muttered.

Brennus walked over to her, grasping her hair and pulling her head upwards to meet him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were _you_," she whispered, a snarl hiding underneath her voice. She nodded to behind Brennus, where Alvarr stood, pointing Brennus' own steel dagger at his throat. A small click rang out through the hall, and Brennus turned to find the chains that usually held Morgana empty. He slowly backed away, but found himself unable to because of Alvarr's dagger.

"Stand up, Brennus," Morgana shouted, and he turned to face the witch, who was sitting on _his_ throne. "Face me bravely like the fool you are."

"I do not fear you, cow. You have no magic anymore."

"Oh," Morgana started, a slight smile spreading across her lips. She could feel the power returning to her bones as she slipped into her old self once more. "But you see, there was something Alvarr failed to mention. He has magic, dear," she pouted sarcastically, bathing in the bandit's fear.

"And he used the little power he had left to lift the curse off me. That's not good news for you..."

Morgana raised her hand, and her eyes flashed a brilliant gold. The last thing Brennus remembered was the sudden pain as his head collided with the hard stone wall.

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So there it is! I really hope you enjoyed!

Please read and review!


	5. Escape

**Hey! I'm really really sorry about the long wait. Exams have been dreadful and the revision seems to have put me into some sort of writer's block state, but I've only got one more exam tomorrow, so I thought I would just write a chapter tonight to start the trend of regular updates again. Enjoy!**

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Morgana sat on Brennus' throne, surveying the catastrophic scene before her with an evil smirk plastered across her pale face. Brennus was sprawled across the ground, blood trickling down his face in a heavy stream and filling his mouth with the velvety crimson liquid. Maybe she had thrown him back with her magic a little hard – but it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it, after all he had put her through. She was only just processing the information that she had been chained to a wall at the bottom of a pit for a year and a half. It couldn't of been that long.  
A heavy crashing made her eyes dart upwards, towards the large wooden doors that stood between Morgana and the many bandits trying to make their way into the hall. It had started about an hour ago, when the stupid beings had realised their king had been in there far longer than usual. Morgana did not know how long ago she had attacked the dying man on the floor, time seemed to pass so inevitably fast – or was it slow? She drew her hair back with her hands, letting them tug at her skin, keeping her eyes wide open. She could not afford to sleep with the threat of the bandits attacking her coming closer and closer. But they would not be the problem; it was escaping that would be difficult.

Alvarr cried out, clutching his stomach and dropping to his knees. His sudden outburst startled the high priestess, who jumped out of her seat, having forgotten that the sorcerer was present next to her.

"Morgana…" Alvarr whispered, his voice barely travelling the distance between them. "I can not make it… much longer. You do not know how many months I have spent in this prison…" He reached out for Morgana, who found herself backing away for his touch. His hand, not finding her, fell directly to the floor and his body collapsed with it. He was now lying on his back, his eyes misty and looking directly at Morgana.

"My magic was keeping me alive… But now… I've used it on you…"

"Don't worry Alvarr," Morgana said reassuringly, I will take care of the thugs and we **will** escape." However, she did not believe her own words, for she had spent over a year without magic, and was not completely confident in her magical ability defeating the many numbers of bandits outside the hall. The door bent further under the strain of the bandits pushing against it, and Morgana witnessed as the hinges began to creak. Fear washed through her body, a familiar feeling since she had been in the dungeon. Her mind cast back to the days without fear, when she had the utmost confidence in her powers and her will to defeat everything in the way between her and the throne of Camelot. She could not feel that need, that desire, in any part of her body. Had it perished under the harassment of being a helpless prisoner, or was it merely dormant? Alvarr's eyes had closed peacefully, and his chest rising and falling with his slow breathing told Morgana he was at peace. She didn't know what to do with him; he was too much of a liability.

She stalked past his body towards the door, stopping a few paces away from it and raising her hands defiantly. The door gave a giant moan and lunged towards her before collapsing under the weight of the bandits. Shards of wood flew across the room, and dust cascaded across the ground, landing close to the witch's feet.

Bandits entered the room, drawing their steel and iron that glinted in the cool light that fluttered around the room. Most of the thugs wore leather that covered their vital organs; some of the bigger ones had steel hanging from their chests. As the crowded into the hall, the enormous danger Morgana was facing hit her in her face, and they slowly parted, revealing a horrible sight.

Tom, the man that had dragged her to the very hall she was standing in however many months ago, was dragging a feeble creature across the cold stone. Aithusa howled as the thin rope around her neck dug into her skin and her nails broke across the hard floor as she tried to stop her movement.

"No…" Morgana muttered, realising how long she must have been in the hall, for the young dragon was not so small anymore, and carried even more sorry in her eyes.

"You dare treat my friend like this!" Morgana screamed, lurching towards Tom and grabbing his throat, her long fingernails digging into his skins as the rope dug into Aithusa's. As she tightened her grip on the bandit, the rest raised their weapons to point directly at Morgana's head, and she backed away slowly, releasing Tom from her grip.

"You want to play games with a dragon?" Morgana asked Tom, her scared looked being painted over with an evil one. "Well, they produce fire, and so do I!" She raised her hands again, and fire spurted from her palms, dancing towards Tom and erupting across his torso. The bandit screamed in horror as the flames caught hold. He dropped the rope that held Aithusa prisoner, and the dragon leapt upwards, her fragile wings barely keeping her airborne as she flew towards the throne and settled on it. Tom fell to his knees as Alvarr did, the fire covering his body and casting red lights across the rest of the men. When the fire ceased at last, his body fell to the floor with a clunk and the bandits gasped in horror at his charred face, black and smoking. They raised their weapons once more, but so to did Morgana raise her hands.

"Don't try it, or you'll all be fried alive."

They fled from the hall faster than the witch could've imagined. She walked back towards the throne, holding Aithusa's face in her hand and observing the damage taken by the young dragon. Only a few bruises, so she muttered some carefully chosen words that cleared them up. Then she looked at Alvarr, who had woken and propped himself up since the encounter with Tom.

"How are you feeling?" Morgana asked, coming to kneel beside him.

"Not better," he gasped, clutching his stomach again. "But not worse."

"Good," Morgana said, clicking her fingers. Alvarr's body rose upward, and he fell limp, letting the magic take hold of him. "We're going to escape, I promise you that." But she didn't know if even she believed her own words.

* * *

Morgana walked along the deserted hallway, looking left and right quickly to see if there were any oncoming attacks. The bandits seemed to have cleared out, leaving the dirty dungeon empty. Only empty ale bottles and filthy rags bore the trace of the vermin once living in the cold place. Alvarr's body floated gracefully behind her, and Aithusa walked next to her, her long legs making even bigger strides than the witch did.

"Where have they all gone?" Morgana asked herself, leaning around the corner and observing the next corridor. As she continued down, a noise made her turn to the left. She walked into the shadows, hands infront so she could feel her way to the producer of the sound. Suddenly, she sensed a hand rise slowly behind her left shoulder.

Morgana whipped around, grabbing Alvarr's hand and twisting it hard. The sorcerer cried out in pain, and with his other hand he pointed down the corridor before collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Bandits charged forward from the shadows, startling Morgana. She raised her hands, and her eyes flashed gold as she pushed the first few backwards, but more were still coming. They obviously realised that despite her magic, they still had the numbers on their side. Morgana rushed through the small gap she had made from her attack, and ducked and dived as blades and maces came for her, their intentions lethal. She escaped the crowd on the other side with a bad cut to her leg, and she had to start limping. Morgana turned to see that both Alvarr and Aithusa had followed, but Alvarr's condition was getting much worse. He fell to the ground once more, and let the bandits surround him. But they continued, for it was the witch that had attacked their king, it was she that was worth the fortune.

Morgana saw a ladder at the end of the next hallway, but she could not stop the bandits coming, her magic was still not at its strongest. What she used to roast Tom alive could have been used to kill a few more with a simple throwback spell. Through the hoards of men, she could see Alvarr's helpless figure, and his eyes dug directly into her soul.

"Morgana," he said, and although his voice was as quiet as a whisper she could still hear it as clear as day. "Please…"

_He is a liability! _Morgana screamed to herself. _Would you rather you died trying to save him, or he die and you live? Choose! _Tears rushed down the witch's face as her mind tore itself apart. She clutched her head; the thoughts rushing through it like a tsunami.

And suddenly she was touching the cold metal rungs of the ladder and propelling herself upward, stopping every so often to magically push the bandits brave enough to chase her up the staircase back. She had not done this of her own accord, and she felt as though half her body was ready to jump back down towards the crippled sorcerer. As she looked down, she could see him, with a gash in his head and blood across his face. She would never forget his expression as she moved further and further away from him.

At the top of the ladder, she magically smashed the lock and the door flew open. Morgana waited for Aithusa to fly through the hole before lifting herself out into the dark, snowy landscape. She shut the hatch behind her, casting fire over the metal to mold it into place. _They won't be going anywhere anytime soon_, she thought cheekily. And then, she suddenly stopped. When she said 'they,' Alvarr was included, stuck down there with those bandits. She turned away from the hatch, signifying her distance from the sorcerer. She had made her mind up, and would have to live with it.

Morgana walked towards the forests just ahead of her, and nearly stepped on Aithusa, who was almost invisible against the porcelain snow. The dragon looked at her as though she was judging the high priestess, her expression full of sorrow and almost a hint of hatred.

"What?" Morgana shouted at the creature. "He would've slowed us down, I did this for **us**!"

But Aithusa had had enough, because she had thought of Morgana completely wrong. Gone was the nice witch she had shared a cell with, replaced with the beast infront of her. Morgana kneeled down beside the dragon, her hand coming to rest on her head, but Aithusa pulled away from the witch's touch, and turned around, taking off into flight and disappearing into the night sky.

Tears ran down Morgana's face, wetting the snow infront of her feet. Her last friend had left her, and she was alone again. No Agravaine, no Alvarr, no Aithusa. She was alone. Defiantly wrapping her arms around her, she stumbled off into the dark woods ahead of her.

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**So there it is! After reading it again, I realise this sounds as though it may be the end, but don't worry it isn't! I've got a few more chapters planned yet...**

**Please review!**

**P.S. Notice in the last line, "No Agravaine, no Alvarr, no Aithusa." What has Morgana got with allies whose names start with A?**


	6. Attacked in the Forest

**See, I promised that last chapter wouldn't be the ending! Enjoy!**

**P.S. Yay! Exams are completely done! Phew...**

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Morgana felt the snow thin beneath her feet as she entered the forest. She looked around worriedly. Even with her magic back with the outside world looked amazingly frightful, it was though the trees were staring straight at her as they arched into the sky, twisting in every direction.

She did not know how long it had been since Aithusa had flown off into the dark sky, leaving her alone and helpless. Time seemed to pass so fast, like a blur of images tainted by the falling snow that was scarcer now that she was in the shelter of the tall trees. The thought of Alvarr and his fate down in the dungeon was squeezed into the furthest reaches of her mind, she could not face the guilt those thoughts brought her, for he was probably near death as she scurried further and further away from him.

Before long, she started to breathe louder and louder until she collapsed under the exhaustion. Her frail bones could not take the enormous amount of physical stress she had put them under after being still in a dungeon for… how long was it? A year? Morgana could not remember. Propping herself up, she saw that she had only made it fifty yards from the snowy landscape, for she could still see large white patches dotted throughout the thick black trunks of the trees. Sighing, she let her head fall down onto the soft ground – surprisingly soft, indeed. Her eyes closed, and she was plunged into a deep sleep in mere seconds.

* * *

**Morgana's Dream (In Her Perspective)**

_The ground is black. The sky is black. Everywhere I turn my eyes meet nothing but darkness. Where am I? _

_ "Hello, Morgana," a voice says softly, sweetly. I turn my body over, and I look directly into Lucas' emerald eyes. They beam at me with generosity, and I cannot help but smile under the pressure of his own, grinning mouth. _

_ Suddenly we're in the forest again, and he's lying next to me. His smile is the same, but his eyes say different. They stare at me with intensity beyond all imagination, delving into my soul. I know he senses my guilt and sadness over my betrayal of Alvarr. He must know that Aithusa has abandoned me. He knows everything._

_ Because he's not real._

_ I reach out to touch his sandy hair, meeting only the cold bark behind him. His body vanishes into pale mist that floats in the air where he once was. I scream. I get up and scream at the top of my lungs at the forest that isn't really there. Because I want him next to me again. Because I want him to not have died at Brennus' hands. I collapse to the ground, choking on my screams for the farm hand. Because I want to see his face just one last time. But I can't. _

_Because he is dead and haunting my dreams._

* * *

Morgana woke up screaming, disturbing the forest life around her that had been still for the night. Birds leapt out of their trees, gliding across the now sunny landscape, which did not seem so dark and scary in the blinding light. The dream of Lucas was gone in an instant, replaced with the need to survive once more. She was so hungry she could barely think straight. Morgana stood up, noticing a path that she had been sleeping next to. In her mindless stumbling last night, she must have passed out next to it.

As she followed the dirt track, Morgana noticed things. Suspicious things. A snapping twig breaking the constant silence, a shadow behind a tree to large for any animal to make. She ignored them, her desperate hunger driving her, hoping that whoever it was meant no harm. But she could not stay on the track, that was for sure. Because if whomever she was seeing was following her, she was sure they did not mean well.

Morgana noticed nothing as she veered off to the right, away from the direction of the shadow she had noticed earlier, which was to the left. What really surprised her was that the hunter attacked her from above.

His blade swooped down in an arc as he dropped, barely missing the witch's shoulder. Morgana fell to the ground in an effort to avoid him landing on her, so he still had the advantage. He took the opportunity to hit her in the back with the hilt of his blade, which he had fashioned from scraps of metal and some vine. Morgana's world went dark.

* * *

She woke to find another blade staring her in the face – and not the one the hunter had used to attack her. The bandit lifted Morgana's head with the sharp tip of the steel, observing his prize. He leaned forward and Morgana winced, but he merely wiped his hand down her face, and she was surprised to see her hands covered with mud as he withdrew. She then realised that she had spent the entire night sleeping in a pile of mud, which is why the surface she had been lying on seemed so soft. She looked down, finding her lacy clothes drenched with the slimy stuff, she wouldn't have recognised herself if she was staring herself in the face. She wouldn't have noticed in the morning because her desperate hunger, which slowly started returning to her now as the surprise of the sudden attack began to fade.

Morgana looked up into the face of the bandit, and recoiled, realising he was one of Brennus' men. The man walked off to talk with another to her left, and as he left her line of sight her eyes found another prisoner of the thugs, like her. The hunter kneeled opposite her, his hands tied behind his back as hers were, his green eyes cast on the brown earth, his hair scruffy, but he was different in that the third and final bandit has his sword still pointed at his scalp. As Morgana focused on the prisoner, she realised he was no hunter, but merely looking for food with the useless tools he had fashioned from scrap, for he had no other means of quenching his hunger. Moreover, she knew instantly who he was, for only a year and a half ago they had both been in nearly the exact same position.

The bandit holding Lucas captive pulled his head up by the hair, dragging the sword he held tightly softly across the farm hand's throat. Grinning at Morgana, who angrily stared back, furiously trying to hide her shock at seeing her friend alive and well.

"We heard you might come quietly if we don't hurt him, my lady," the bandit said, standing up straight.

Lucas raised his head looking directly at her. His face had changed; it now bore the scars of someone badly wounded not physically, but mentally.

"Morg–" but his word was cut short as the bandit hit his head exactly as Lucas had hit hers, and the farm hand fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

Morgana stretched against the tough rope that bound her hands, gritting her teeth at the pain on her wrists. The first bandit came back into her line of sight, wagging his finger as if talking to a child.

"No, no, no. Remember, no magic and no trying to escape means lover boy over there gets to keep his head where it should be."

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**Please review, will have the next chapter up soon.**


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